Growing up
by Akiho4
Summary: This story features Bookman and Lavi as the former one has to cope with the upbringing of the later one, varying between different genres.
1. Chapter 1: Growing Up

**Please read and let me know whether or not you liked it! Suggestion for new chapters are more than welcome ;) **

**Note: English is not my first language, so if you come across errors, please let me know!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters of D Grayman**

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Chapter 1: Growing up

It was somewhere in the afternoon that Bookman was held up in the room he had rented for the coming days, thoroughly working on another extensive log. War never seemed to stop, giving the old historicist no time to linger. The human race was pitiful, solving minor disputes by drastic means, but since Bookman could not deny he was human as well, he never vocalized those thoughts in public. Instead he devoted his life to recording the history of the world in an unbiased, impartial way, constantly trying to separate himself from trivial feelings like love or hate. For those emotions affected his impartial observing greatly.

By the time Bookman finished the list of casualties he had recorded in the past three days, the older man noticed a shifting sound coming from the other side of the room. In the opposite corner sat his young apprentice (currently going by the Persian alias _Khalif), _his back against one of the two beds the room occupied and an opened book resting on his knees. Whatever was on the nine-year-old's mind, it certainly did not contain the literature he was supposed to be reading right now. The child was fidgeting, constantly throwing subtle gazes at his teacher, which did not went unnoticed by Bookman.

After a few more minutes of being gazed at, Bookman stopped the movement of his writing-quill and sighed audibly. "Mind telling me what got you so worked up that you can't continue reading silently?"

The sudden question visibly startled Khalif as he jerked up, aware of his incorrect behavior. "I… uhm," searching for words the young apprentice fumbled with the book pages. Then he shook his head, probably deciding whatever the reason of his distraction was, it was not worth telling his teacher. "It's nothing."

Bookman highly doubted 'nothing' would be able to interfere with one's reading, but as Khalif did not explicit his statement, the older man let it rest. Instead he prompted the boy to continue his assignment and hurry up finishing reading.

For a small amount of time Khalif actually succeeded in doing so, that is, until Bookman rose from his chair in order to stow away the pile of parchment he had accomplished writing. Him standing up somehow triggered his apprentice to become distracted again as the young boy once again glared up to him, examining the elder man from head to toe.

"Hé, ji-ji?" Khalif finally vocalized his thoughts upfront. "Exactly how tall are you?"

To say Bookman was surprised by this question would be an understatement. The sudden interest in the height of the teacher was thus random that Bookman had trouble maintaining his composure. Even though the older men did a fine job acting indifferent to the subject, Khalif must have felt his surprise as the boy started chuckling silently.

Needless to say, Bookman was not amused and sent the apprentice a strict glare that made the boy stop the act abruptly. "As funny as this may seem to you, I certainly do not comprehend why my current height is to any importance. In any case it is not necessary for you to know in order to read the literature I instructed you with."

Khalif nervously scratched the part of his nose that crossed with the black cord of his eye-patch. A gesture he often made when he was about to say something that might not please the older man. "It indeed has nothing to do with my reading, but…"

The hesitation made Bookman roll his eyes as he knew Junior would not be able to concentrate on his work unless he had spoken his mind. "But what? Either complete your sentence or don't start it at all."

"Well, as Bookmen we are supposed to be observant of our environment, right?" A small, mischievous twinkle sparked in Khalif one uncovered eye as he waited for the older man's reply. Bookman however noted the sign of a childish act coming up and therefore reacted on guard.

"That is correct."

"Then, it is in my interest as an apprentice bookman to be curious about the height of a fellow historicist with whom I have travelled a significant amount of time." Khalif stated, a grin appearing on his young face.

Bookman, by no means taken back by the eloquence of the nine year-old, simply crossed his arms and opposed: "It is indeed an important quality of a bookman to be aware of his surroundings, including such minor looking facts as measurements and other comparable features. However, " he quickly added. "as important as that may be, it still does not excuse you from completing the assignment you have been given."

At this resolute answer Khalif puffed his cheeks and muttered something incomprehensible, clearly in no mood to listen to the elder's words.

Bookman raised a brow. This was exactly why he disliked children. They were either happy of moody and even though Junior certainly was an excellent successor (as he was both intelligent and observant) the younger one sometimes acted a bit too much like his age.

"Stop acting like a child." Bookman demanded as he walked back to the desk he had been writing on.

"I am a child."

"You're an apprentice bookman."

"I am a child apprentice."

"You're an apprentice bookman who just happen to has the same age as a child," countered Bookman without mercy. "This does not include you to act like one."

With that Khalif went silent, pouting slightly in the corner of the room.

Placing himself behind the desk, Bookman let out a soft sigh. He wasn't sure whether the increasing rebellion of Junior was merely characteristic for his current alias _Khalif_ or if it had something to do with the kid growing up into a difficult age. Either way, it was testing Bookman's patience and the older man chose to ignore the difficult outbursts of the child as much as possible. However, the boy had come up with some rather fine reasoning (before he spoiled it with his childlike behavior) which was why Bookman decided to give him a little bit of credit. Just a bit.

"My current height would be 140 cm (4'7'')."

And even though Bookman had his back turned to the younger one, he knew all too well the cheerful smile that was now visible on the child's face. It was a good decision Bookman assured his wavering mind, since his sentence was followed by a welcoming silence. The qualm atmosphere had finally return, only now and then interrupted by the sound of turning pages.

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**A.**


	2. Chapter 2: Only half an inch away

**Please read and let me know whether or not you liked it! Suggestion for new chapters are more than welcome ;) **

**Note: English is not my first language, so if you come across errors, please let me know!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters of D Grayman**

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Chapter 2: Only half an inch away

It wasn't until a few days later that Bookman understood the real reason for Khalif's sudden interest in height. The older man was just returning from a trip to the market, when he found the young boy standing in the doorway of their hotel room with a tape-measure in his hand. The first hint of suspicion came from the tape-measure itself, since Bookman could not remember seeing Khalif with such an instrument before. The second hint was caused by the startled reaction of the boy upon seeing his teacher's return.

"Ah, ji-ji," the red-head uttered aback. "I… uh… I didn't expect to see you this soon." While talking the apprentice tried to secretively hide the tape-measure behind his back, which failed miserably, all the more since Bookman had already seen the object the moment he entered the hallway.

"Well, it is clear you made a wrong assumption there," stated Bookman dryly. His attention was caught by a swift look of the boy's eye to the door-case which, as Bookman now became aware off, was just slightly carved on the right side. The single notch was precisely at the red-head's height, letting the elder to believe Khalif had used the door-case to determine his own growth.

The thought of the young apprentice being concerned about such a trivial thing, made Bookman chuckle inside, but he did not let the amusement show. Adversely he walked past the child and placed the just bought groceries on the single desk of their shared room.

"May I assume you finished your little escapade?" he asked with a mixture of humor and accusation.

Khalif faltered for a second, tiptoeing from one foot to another. It was clear the boy felt busted and Bookman found it a justified development. Tough judging from his next sentence the younger one wasn't about ready to admit the truth.

"What escapade are you referring to exactly?" he uttered provocative.

If it wasn't for the comical look in the boy's attitude, Bookman would have smacked him on the head. Such cheekiness was not appropriate for a future bookman.

"Watch your mouth, kid," he warned partial imminent. "Disobedience never solved a problem."

At this Khalif merely shrugged. "I wasn't trying to be disobedient," he answered smartly. "I just wanted to clarify your question."

Cleary the child hadn't learned from previous occasions. It wasn't the first time his curious and free-spoken personality had brought Bookman to the point of smacking the kid on his head and it certainly didn't seem as if the last one was over yet.

Naturally Bookman wouldn't be Bookman if he let his apprentice get away with this cheekiness. The elder never declared himself as Junior's babysitter, but solely his teacher. And if it concerned the upbringing of his future successor Bookman definitely needed to educate the boy in terms of courtesy and refinement.

"I am referring to the object your tent to hide behind your back."

"Uh," Khalif face colored bright red. Bookman looked at him with a sarcastically facial expression as the boy tried to come up with a lousy excuse. Seeing his apprentice ponder without much result, Bookman decided to wait no longer and approached Khalif head on. The boy took a step back when he realized what was coming, but Bookman was faster and quickly grabbed both Khalif's arms with his hands, leaving no room for the boy to hide the tape-measure.

"It was nothing, really," Khalif smoothed over, but Bookman simply ignored the kid by seizing the object.

The elder man studied the tape-measure for a few seconds, after which he gave Khalif a dubious look. "Considering the fact you tried to hide this from me, I take it you have not yet used it, am I correct?"

Khalif bit his under lip. "That would be correct."

Bookman gave a short nod. A least his apprentice finally accepted the truth, no longer seeking to find an excuses for his actions. "Very well," he stated decisive. "Then let's get to it."

If it was his intention to abash the apprentice, he could not have done a better job. Only after Bookman had neared the notch on the door-case and lengthened the tape-measure against the wooden frame, Khalif seemed to understand his aim, as he quickly joint the elder man. The curious spark in his single eye betrayed his excitement and Bookman found it rather amusing to slow down up action on purpose.

"So? What is my height? Did I surpass yours?" Khalif excitedly asked, giving Bookman the confirmation the whole escapade was indeed merely to gain victory over his teacher. Therefore Bookman was more than satisfied when it turned out that Junior's height was no more than 138 centimeters, making the apprentice slightly smaller that he himself.

"No way!" exclaimed Khalif distorted. "You must have made a mistake. Measure again!"

Bookman folded his arms and gave the boy a stern look. "Are you doubting my observation?"

Knowing that there was no way to argue with the observation-skills of his teacher (after all, the elder was an experienced Bookman) Khalif made a displeased face.

"But I was thís close to beating you," he protested while indicating the difference in height between the two with his fingers.

Bookman shook his head disappointed. "Do I need to remind you that such childish games are by no means relevant for a successor of the Bookman-clan?"

"I know," sighed Khalif sulky. "Panda-jiji."

Even before Khalif had finished his sentence, Bookman eyes narrowed.

"What did you just say?" he demanded sharply.

"I said: Panda-jiji," repeated Khalif with an unwavering, confident look that matched his stubborn posture.

His confidence however was shortly wiped out, as Bookman smacked him on the head. "How many times do I need to tell you never to call me that again?"

"Ouch!" cried the kid while rubbing the sore spot on his head. "But it's true! You really do look like a panda with those eyes!"

A second hit led to another cry from Khalif. Bookman nevertheless felt no mercy for the apprentice. He had told the kid to quite many times before, but for some reason the boy had trouble learning this particular rule.

"Stop whining," he ordered annoyed. "Who knows, maybe the swelling will grow just large enough for you to outgrow me."

At that, Khalif jumped from the ground, a broad grin decorating his teary face. "Really?"

And if the boy hadn't dodge the next fist, he surely would have passed the 140 centimeters.

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**A.**


	3. Chapter 3: Two sides of life

**It's been a while since I've updated this story and I had actually almost forgotten about it, but recently I got stuck with this idea in my head and just had to write it down. It might be a bit more dark than the previous chapters, but I think its justified, since Lavi's character itself is also more complex than he lets on. Please read and let me know what you think.**

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Chapter 3: Two sides of life

Soundless the wind danced with the red locks of hair and the long white scarf that was wrapped around the boy's slender neck. Birds glided on the streams of air, circling above the ground and testing their voices once in a while. Behind the hills peaked the last crescent of the sun, coloring the sky in shades of red, purple and pink. The clouds still lingered on the higher mountains behind the boy and his mentor and hadn't covered the valley yet. The panorama he was forced to watch sent shivers down his spine. Dreadful, gruel, he lacked the words to express. This could no longer be called war, this was hell.

"Don't look away, Junior."

There was no need for his mentor to emphasize the words by nudging the boy's head in the direction of the unfolding event. The implacable linger in his voice alone made the boy comply. _Don't sympathize. Only record. Emotions cloud your judgement. Wars will always be part of nature. Humans are humans. Ink on paper. _The words of his mentor crawled through Junior's mind, while his eyes watered. No tears were shed, but the anxiety grew.

That evening a storm rolled over the small hotel Bookman and Junior were staying the night. The boy, curled up in a thin blanket, listened to the rumbling that was once in a while accompanied by a illuminating flash. Bookman was still up, scribbling on a sheet of parchment, documenting today's happenings. He had let Junior off the hook since it was his first time recording an incident with this level of gravity. The redhead had been exhausted upon returning to the hotel. Drained from the emotional exertion. Sleep however seemed to be lost. No matter how much he turned and tossed, no matter how much his eyes and body begged for refuel of energy, he couldn't drift off. His mind was a chaos. Thoughts, words, flashes of memories circled through his conscience. The thunder enforced the rattling of the departing trains. The flashes of lightning poked his imagination and created visual representations of the gunshots he had heard, but never seen. The aftermaths of the exploding gunpowder lit up before his closed eyes. Again. Again. Again…

"Junior?"

The boy made a humming sound to acknowledge the presences of his master, but stayed hidden underneath the covers.

"Junior."

Hearing the urge in Bookman's voice, Junior crawled higher up, untangling himself from the sheets and his red locks popped out from beneath.

"'m Okay."

But he was not. His breath hitched, while his chest tightened by the second. It became harder and harder to inhale the necessary oxygen. He desperately tried to catch the tiniest bit of air to fill his lungs, but he just couldn't. Anxiety started to take over. His heart beat faster and faster, faster than he held possible. He tried to sit up straight to give more room to his jammed longs, but it was to no avail. His surroundings started to sway, making the boy sick with dizziness. Far away he heard a familiar sound, a voice calling for him, but he could not register what was happening to him.

"- breathe. Stay calm and focus on my voice."

The words did not enter his ears, they flew by as if they were never spoken to begin with. All he could do was grab his shirt with his small hands, desperately hoping to get rid of the growing tightening in the area of his chest. _Breathe_. Why did that concept sound so foreign? Again with the flashes, the trains, people lying motionless on the muddy ground. Why? Why? WHY?!

With utmost precision Bookman inserted the thin black needles in the specific chosen acupuncture points of the boy's wrists. It had taken some effort to get hold of both wrists since the boy refused to let go of the shirt he was holding so firm. Finally, after talking ceaseless, Bookman was able to reach the boys conscience long enough to unlace to child's hands from the fabric. The acupuncture was not enough to deal with the emotional stress of Junior, but at least it had the capacity of reducing the physical pain caused by the panic attack. Really, as an experienced Bookman he should have expected this reaction after today's events. If he recalled his own first interaction with the cruelty of war, the shivers still crept up on him as if it was yesterday. And he had been a lot older then.

He watched his apprentice as the boy slowly regained control over his body. The red locks of hair spread disorderly to all sides, but it was the black circle under the one tired, green eye and the traces of tears along the pale face that really reminded Bookman of the young age of the boy.

"Ji-ji?" stuttered the child when his breathing finally returned to a normal, steady rhythm.

"Yes, Junior?" the old man nodded and he carefully removed the needles from the boys wrists, while he waited for the other to continue.

"Am I- Can I… Can I still become a Bookman?"

If Bookman allowed his heart to influence his actions, he would have taken the boy in his arms and soothe him with comfort. He could however not do such a thing. Both because it was against the principles of the bookmen-clan, but also because it wouldn't help Junior. The only way to deal with this kind of anxiety, was learning how to control the emotions. It would be a long way to teach the boy all the things he needed to know in order to take over the role of Bookman. It would be hard, very hard, but not impossible. Not for this child. Not for the young spirit that put so much faith in the old man and longed for the mysterious knowledge only familiar by the bookmen.

So all Bookman did was put his hand on the red locks, the only way he knew how to provide a small piece of reassurance to his apprentice.

"You will be, Junior. I choose you with a reason."

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**A.**


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